I’m full. No, make that stuffed. Satiated. Saturated. Gorged. Bursting. My body is aching and my mind is foggier than Beijing on a bad air day. I can almost feel the grease pushing out through my pores. My entire system is sneering and snarking at me: “Are you kidding me? Have you no sense of… Continue reading Stuporcize me
Stories from the South and the subconscious